Where Darkness Dwells (5 page)

Why did she think that? That word.
Whatever
. Didn't she mean
whoever
?

She wished she would've made sure the cellar door was locked. But it was too late now. The doorknob turned, the tumblers rasping with rust. The door creaked opened. Her heart skipped a beat. She waited for her dad to cast out these invaders. No sound came.

All she heard was her mother's continued sobs.

A vile odor swept over her, reminiscent of days Junior spent in the swamps chasing tadpoles. The rank odor of pond muck and rotting vegetation. But this stench was ten times worse.

Someone stepped into the hall. There he lingered, as if considering his surroundings.

Is he looking at me?
she cried out inside, frozen in place. All she could do was blink, her heart racing, aching.

She couldn't see anything in the hall's inky blackness. The strangers filled the space, their bodies consuming the pale moonlight creeping through the kitchen windows. Immobilized by fear, she didn't want to move to draw their attention. She also didn't want to see what was out there, but found it impossible to look away.

Then the floorboards sighed as they walked toward the kitchen, toward her parents.

She could tell now, as they moved single file with measured, cautious strides, there were three men. Featureless; as dark as shadows gathering in a well at midnight.

She expected a struggle or cries of outrage.

Their shuffling steps and her mom's cries were the only sounds. One final heart-breaking sob from her mom punctured the night. Then the steady footfalls returned, heading toward her room again.

One shadow-shrouded figure headed down the cellar steps. Followed by another. Seeing her dad's pale blue shirt was a shock after such darkness. His left shoulder came into view, then as he turned, she glimpsed his forearm with his sun-weathered skin looking like dried blood in the gloom. Then briefly, his profile. Two day's stubble, more gray than black. His crooked nose, twice broken in his youth.

His eyes. She needed to see his eyes.

Please Daddy. Let me see you!

But he didn't look her way.

He followed the men into the cellar. The last stranger stepped into view, blotting out the final image of her dad.

She began to cry. Greta hadn't lied. Betty had never believed her stories, not until this very second. But what else could they be besides the Collectors? She blinked away her tears when she heard a noise coming from the cellar. Before she could figure out what it was, a new coughing fit covered the sound.

She just knew he wouldn't go so willingly.

But she was mistaken. She placed the sound as the fit subsided. It was rocks grating on one another. Being stacked in to piles. Replaced to their rightful position. Covering up the tunnel dug into their home. Sealing away her dad into the earth.

4.

The sun lit the horizon when Cooper woke from a fitful night's sleep, his clothes damp with dew. He gathered up his gear and headed back down the game trail. He took the slight hill to the rails at a solid clip, trying to warm his muscles. He felt compelled to watch the house until it disappeared from view. Something there was peculiar. He felt it when he was near the house, a pulling at his consciousness, an inexplicable yearning, and now, as he was leaving it behind, the feeling receded like floodwater.

About a half mile off, Cooper came across what the townsfolk would have considered downtown. He left the rails since they curved away from town and into the hills, as if to avoid the town proper. There was a quaint main street, packed dirt like the other branching roads leading from town. Many of the shops had scavenged boards covering the windows. A bakery and a bar sandwiched a law office side by side by side, all three vacant and quiet.

A few tired-looking cars were angle-parked curbside. Most people living in this stretch of country still relied on horses, as their fathers and father's fathers once had. Others would get by like Cooper, walking to and fro, from here to there, and getting to their intended destination a lot slower than desired.

He stepped up to a plank walkway and considered the first business that wasn't boarded up. A hand-painted sign hung askew from the porch's overhang, touting the place as Calder's Mart. The window front displayed a handsome handmade rocking chair draped with a quilted tan blanket. A sign advertised flour, eggs and ice. Cooper peered through the window and could see a rows of dusty shelves. Campbells's Soup and sweet potatoes sat alongside glass jars packed with a variety of homegrown preserves. Tilted bins held fresh produce. Lettuce, tomatoes, chickpeas and beets. The stock was thin and the whole place looked sleepy.

Across an intersecting alley, Cooper looked in on a barbershop. An old man reclined in a barber chair, his straw hat pulled over his eyes. He gripped a half-empty bottle of hooch in his sprawled grasp, and though asleep, it didn't look like he would let it fall to the floor anytime soon. Another man was sitting on a wooden bench near the window, flipping through a yellowed newspaper.

"Good afternoon," Cooper said as he walked inside.

"Um, oh, hello." The man folded the newspaper he'd probably read front to back more times than he had fingers. He had short limbs on a stocky frame. His toes barely brushed the floor from his sitting position.

"Are you open?" Cooper's throat felt scratchy, his voice thicker than normal. He hadn't spoken to anyone in almost a week, since well south of Champaign.

"We sure are, come on in." The man slapped his palm against the open barber chair, raising a dust cloud. The man occupying the other seat didn't move. "You don't look familiar."

"I was just passing through, but with such an inviting town, I had to stop." Cooper sat in the offered chair. "Anyways, I need my ears lowered." It felt good to get off his feet and let his weight ease into an actual chair. His bones were feeling fragile lately.

"You sure do. Good thing you stopped in. At least your shave is civilized."

"What's this town called?"

"Coal Hollow. We been 'corperated since before the Civil War. I'm Bo Tingsley," he said and started snipping around Cooper's neck with his sheers. "Dad was in the war, pushed them Rebs right back to hell, he and a bunch of boys from Illinois. Dad moved down the road from Peoria after his service to the Union, then married Ma not long after," Bo Tingsley spoke as if he had chewed the ears off everyone in town and was happy to see an unmarred pair sitting in his barber chair.

"That so?"

"Sure is." Bo wetted a comb and swiped it dry through Cooper's shoulder-length black hair. "You planning on staying for a stretch?"

"I'm thinking about it. Coal Hollow looks like a good place to take root. By the way, my name's Cooper. Theodore Jameson Cooper. Most people just call me Cooper."

"Nice meeting you, Cooper. What's your trade if I might ask? I know just about everybody within fifty miles. Jobs are tough to come by this far off from anything you might call a city. Still, I might could steer you right."

"Oh, I suppose you can say I've done a little of everything along the way. Farming, ranching, stabling, shopclerking. I worked at a drug store jerking sodas all day. I'm sure I'm leaving something out, but I can do just about anything to earn an honest day's pay." He didn't bother mentioning his true profession as a librarian. Most folk didn't understand an educated man voluntarily taking to the roads and rails.

"Quite a laundry list. I'll have to take a time or two to think on it," Bo said, fighting a nasty cowlick at the top of Cooper's head.

A gurgle rumbled from the liquored lips of the man in the other chair. He rattled off a couple wet snores, then settled back into his murky respite.

"That's Magee over there. This is his barbering place, but as you can see, he's disposed of for the moment, if you catch my drift."

"Bo, I don't know Magee at all, but I do believe you'd give a better barbering than old Magee any day."

Bo laughed with comfortable acceptance.

Cooper observed Bo's handiwork in a cloudy mirror. "That's a nice cut, Bo. I'm glad I stopped in. I feel halfway human again. How much do I owe?"

"Two bits."

Cooper reached into his pocket and pulled out two quarters. If he judged Bo correctly, a big tip would pay off down the line.

"Thanks, Coop. That's mighty kind of you."

"It's just nice to be off the road is all I can say."

Cooper was about out the door when the chatterbox barber called out. "Say, Coop, you know where you're gonna lodge?"

"Magee's is the first place I stopped. Haven't had the time to look around. Is there a place you can recommend with a warm bed and warmer food?" He ran his hand through his close-cropped hair, again checking the mirror. He wasn't used to the short cut, but looked more presentable than before meeting Bo.

"The Calder Mart up the block has rooms above the store. You get a bed and three squares for a fair price. Thea, she's Henry Calder's daughter. She runs the place, for the most part. When you see her, you'll know it's her. She's a real looker. She went off to California to make movies, and actually made a few, but now she come home. She does the cooking, but it ain't even close to her ma's, God rest her soul." Bo paused and crossed himself before continuing. "Eating her mom's cooking felt like a sin of indulgence. She's gone now, a good four years or so. Pneumonia took her away."

"That's too bad." From the pain on Bo's face, the man still harbored feelings for his neighbor's wife. The barber's eyes darkened and became distant.

"Sounds like she was a fine woman." Cooper felt awkward, and wanted to leave Magee's more than anything.

"Oh, she was. A fine woman. A fine cook, but she had a finer heart. The kindliest woman you'd ever meet. Too bad Thea only got her looks. She inherited her Pa's mean streak. He's German, you know." Bo sat in the empty barber chair. He turned in the swivel chair, and continued to speak to the inebriated Magee. Cooper supposed the two old barbers held one-sided conversations like this quite often.

"Thanks for the advice, Bo."

"Oh, sure," Bo said distantly, his face turned away.

Cooper let the door close behind him.

A bell rattled above the entryway when he opened the door to Calder's Mart. Two wide aisles housed fresh produce bins, sacks of flour, jars of molasses and other assorted dry goods. Beyond, a hodgepodge of basic hardware hung on pegs against the back wall. Cooper walked to the far corner where the cash till stood on a high wooden countertop. Perfume bottles and cheap-looking jewelry boxes filled a display behind the counter. A black curtain blocked the view to a backroom. A scarred wooden counter formed an L-shape with the register counter. A few rickety stools stood in front for customers. The place had little stock and seemed deserted. Cooper waited at the counter, not sure if he should look around for anyone working the place.

A hand-painted placard hung next to the jewelry boxes and dusty perfume bottles.

Your business means the world to us. Let us know if you have any suggestions!

"Good afternoon," a harried voice called from a stairwell tucked away between a grimy pickle barrel and a display of Henderson brand pitchforks.

Cooper caught some of his breath before all of it rushed from his lungs. Bo hadn't lied. Thea Calder
was
a looker. She stood at the bottom of the steps, her hands on her hips, a damp apron around her thin waist.

"Can I help you, or are you just going to gawp-about like a doe-eyed simpleton?" Her cheeks were flushed and dark brown curls drifted from a haphazard bun.

Cooper's chest tightened. He realized he wasn't breathing. It had been a long while since he'd seen such an attractive woman. Eyes like smoky-brown coals, full lips painted a shade most respectable women avoided. She wore a simple flower-print dress, but Cooper figured Thea Calder could wear a housecoat in seminary and still command, at least momentarily, all the men's attention away from God.

"I heard you have lodging. Food too." He'd regained his breath and a partial amount of his ability to speak. Feeling childish, his face crept with color.

"You heard right. Is that all you wanted to know, or do you want to rent a room in this Godforsaken place?" She seemed downright offended he would consider taking a room at Calder's.